Friendship Love and Loyalty
by sandyfin
Summary: When Eddie gets shot, Jamie finds himself caught in a helpless spiral and it just might lead to his undoing. Additions to episode 8x18. Language warning applies.
1. Chapter 1

_Friendship_

"Okay. Big, sweaty, hairy giant. Would you rather live in his shower drain or in his shirt pocket?"

"What? Gross, Janko."

"Which one?" Eddie demands.

"Neither!"

"You have to pick!"

"Why? This is _never_ a scenario I'd find myself in."

"That's not the point! Hypothetically, which one is… less terrible?"

"Neither one!" He says again. "They both make me want to throw up."

"God, you're boring. You've got no sense of imagination, you know that? None."

"I don't need to imagine awful gross shit. I see enough of it in real li-"

He's cut off when the radio crackles to life and Central alerts them of a domestic dispute two blocks away, officers on scene requesting assistance.

"Twelve-David responding," Eddie chirps, and she unfolds her legs from underneath her to put her feet on the floorboard.

Jamie hits the accelerator and moves over a lane to weave through the morning traffic. "I think - I think I'd have to go with shower drain."

"Ew!" Eddie squeals. "Shower drain? Really?"

"Yeah! At least whatever ends up in there is fairly clean. In his shirt pocket you're stuck smelling giant BO all the time."

"Nope, I'd much rather live in his shirt pocket," Eddie announces. "At least there, you can come up to the top and maybe get a breath of fresh air. How are you supposed to climb out of his shower drain if there's a whole jungle of hair stuck there? It'd be like living in a sewer. A sewer with a hair jungle all around you."

"Is this like, something you've thought about before?" he wonders.

"And it wouldn't be as clean as you think," Eddie continues.

"What do you mean?"

"Dirt mixed with water is still dirt. And I don't think this giant uses soap."

"Now you're making extra assumptions. If he's taking a shower I hope he's using soap. I'll buy him a giant-sized bottle of Men + Care before I move in. They sell 'em at Costco."

"He's a nasty giant, he doesn't use soap! And even if he does, he stands in the shower for a while first. It's not like some magical insta-soap, there's going to be his gross whatever running down the drain before he washes himself."

"Magical insta-soap? You never know, in a world of giants magical insta-soap might exist."

Eddie's head falls back against the headrest and her loud laugh rings through the patrol car. "So _now_ you've got an imagination? When it comes to how sweaty giants take showers? How's it work - like a car wash? He steps into the shower and he gets sprayed with like, surround-sound soap guns? Three-sixty surround soap?"

"I don't know, maybe. Just whatever it takes to get him clean fast, alright?"

Eddie's laughter dies down and her voice drops an ominous octave below normal. "It won't matter how fast he gets clean when he pees in the shower."

"God no!" Jamie yelps. "He's a civilized giant, not some Neanderthal."

"Doesn't matter. All men do it," Eddie states matter-of-factly. "And you know what _else_ all men do in the shower?"

"I swear Eddie, if you're about to-"

"They jerk off."

"Why would you say that?" Jamie whines.

"It's the truth! Every single dude. At least sometimes. Including you - Boy Scout."

"No, uh-uh, I'm not talking about this with you."

"You're the one who wants to live in the shower drain. I'm just making sure you understand your choice!" she insists.

He lets out a weary groan as he slows to a stop in front of the address they were given, forcing himself back into cop mode. "You good, partner?"

"Yeah," she replies, serious now too. "Let's go."

He's never been so relieved to take off running towards a scene.


	2. Chapter 2

_Love_

His heart stops when he sees, hears, feels her hit the landing.

What happens next is pure adrenaline-fueled instinct as he slides on his knees to reach her. "You hit? Where're you hit? Where're you hit?" he demands, but her only answer is to gasp for air that refuses to fill her lungs. He tears open her uniform shirt and digs under her vest, desperately searching for blood that he doesn't find.

"It didn't go through. _It didn't go through._ "

The relief surges through his entire body in an overwhelming wave but it's short-lived as he notices the other officer lifeless half a flight above them.

 _That could've been Eddie_.

Telling Eddie to sit tight, he scrambles up the stairs to confirm what he already knows - Officer Dunleevy is dead.

Jamie screams in his face anyway. Shakes him. Tries to wake him up to no avail. Dunleevy's partner Lester has chased the shooter out the window onto the fire escape and by the time Jamie glances after them, the perp is facedown on the wrought-iron grate with cuffs on his wrists and a knee in his back. They're all good and other units are already arriving to help.

He goes back to Eddie, nearly falling down the stairs in his hurry to reach her.

"The window. He went out the window," she rasps, lifting one hand to point.

"It's okay, it's okay," he assures her, his hand closing around hers. "You're good. You're alright."

"The shooter-"

"Hey, just relax, try to breathe." Jamie's talking to himself as much as to Eddie. He shifts to lean back against the wall and brings her with him, supporting her weight against his shoulder with an arm around her back.

He doesn't let go of her hand.

The ambulances arrive within minutes but it feels like years. Eddie tries not to make any noise while they wait but she's clearly in pain, keeping pressure on her bruised abdomen with one hand while her knees bend up towards her chest. She still isn't breathing normally, managing only shaky, shallow gulps of air.

Jamie can't look at her like this for longer than a passing moment without wanting to throw up.

The queasiness only gets worse when the paramedics push him away, and again when he hears Eddie's weak protest - "No, I can walk, I'm good." There's a weariness, a pain in her voice instead of the fight he's used to, and she lets them help her onto the ambulance stretcher without more arguments.

It scares the fuck out of him.

"Reagan!"

He's trailing the paramedics transporting Eddie down the stairs, and the way the lieutenant waits at the next landing for them to pass before he swoops up towards Jamie makes it impossible for him to duck out.

"Need your initial statement and then I'll have you stick with Lester, get our perp processed," Lieutenant Hyde says grimly. "I don't think I need to tell you this one'll be high priority."

Eddie disappears around the corner a level below. His mouth is so dry, he can't even ask to follow her.

* * *

He's on edge. He's so fucking close to the edge that if one more person talks to him and holds him up in this damn precinct for more than one literal second he'll tumble headfirst into the abyss that's trying so hard to swallow him.

He hasn't felt this close to a full-on panic attack in years.

He's not sure why he can't calm himself down. Eddie was wearing her vest. Her vest did its job. The department will offer her time off - as much as she needs - but she'll be back within a week, as soon as the soreness no longer affects her ability to move. Everything will go back to normal. Everything is fine.

 _But everything is not fine_.

Eddie could have died today.

Of course, she could die every day. They never know when they'll walk into that kind of danger. It's something Jamie has forced himself to live with since that day at the Bitterman Houses five years ago shattered any last remnants of his youthful invincibility-

 _Vinny_.

Is that what this is? Some kind of PTSD-related reaction to his last partner's line-of-duty death? Nothing more than his brain and his body clinging, hours later, to the familiar fear that gripped his soul as his hand sought blood from another partner's bullet wound?

No.

This is different.

He got through Vinny's death.

He knows that he wouldn't survive Eddie's.

She could have died today. Another officer _did_ die today. And it's nothing but pure stupid luck that the funeral he'll attend in three days isn't hers.

Does that make him a bad person - thinking it's _lucky_ that someone else died? He's not sure. But he does know that he'd rather be having this mental debate than the alternative - preparing for Eddie's funeral, wishing it was someone else and wondering what that line of thought would say about his character.

Actually, he wouldn't care. In a world without Eddie, he'd be too lost to give one third of a fuck about his character or the camaraderie of the Blue or anyone else's pain. He's not sure he'd even be Jamie Reagan anymore - because no matter how he looks at his life, what angle he takes, he sees his favorite short blonde fireball at his side.

He needs her.

He has for as long as he cares to remember.

He will for as long as he can begin to imagine.


	3. Chapter 3

_And (Intermission)_

After spending all day dealing with the aftermath of the shooting, enduring what felt like an eight-year subway ride, and waiting for takeout at a restaurant staffed by sloths, Jamie rushes into the hospital only to abruptly stop as he crosses the threshold of Eddie's hospital room. He pauses there against the doorframe for a moment, just watching as Eddie shifts in bed and groans at the TV, and he takes a deep breath for the first time all day.

"What's wrong, Janko? You look like you got shot or something."

She glances up and the smile that melts across her face dissolves the tightly wound knot in his stomach in seconds.

"Yankees are losing," she complains.

"You could always switch to the Mets," Jamie suggests, inviting himself into the room.

"Fuck off, Reagan," she scoffs.

Chuckling, he sets the bag of Chinese food on her overbed table and plops into the chair next to her. "Figured you'd need a snack," he tells her. "Oh, and here's this. You left it in the car."

She stops pulling boxes from the food bag when he sets her cell phone next to her so she can scroll through her notifications. "Didn't you ask me a couple weeks ago if I could go a full day without looking at my phone? Well there's your answer."

"Extenuating circumstances. Doesn't count since your phone wasn't with you." He finishes unpacking their meal and drops the fortune cookies in front of Eddie. "These are yours."

"I'm pretty sure it counts."

"I'll allow it," Jamie decides. "But only because you got shot."

"I don't want your pity. I just want your orange chicken. Give me that."

A small laugh escapes him as he passes her the container. "How're you feeling, by the way?"

"Ugh. Starving."

"I meant-"

"I know what you meant. I'm okay. A little sore."

"They got you on anything good?" Jamie asks.

"Tylenol. Because it's not a big deal and there's no reason for me to be stuck here overnight. I'm fine."

"Why are they making you stay then?"

"Observation, I guess. Whatever that means. The CT scan of my stomach was negative for internal bleeding but I might have a concussion from falling down the stairs."

"Damn," he murmurs. He hadn't even thought about any extra injuries from her fall. "It's probably good for you to stay then."

"It would probably be good for me to be home in my own bed where I could actually rest. There's been people in and out of here all day."

"Cops?" Jamie asks. The idea that others - beat cops on break, probably - have been by to see her while he was stuck at the precinct irritates him but he tries to swallow that down.

"Cops, nurses - your dad. That was a little weird, not gonna lie."

Jamie reaches across the table to steal a piece of orange chicken for himself. "The commissioner follows up with everyone who gets injured on the job."

"Yeah, but I'm barely even hurt. And he's your dad."

"And he's the PC. Nothing weird about that."

Eddie swats his hand away as he reaches for more food from her box. "Keep your chopsticks to yourself! I know, it was just - kind of awkward. He was nice though. He said I can move anywhere I want after all this."

The casual way she says it feels like a gut punch and his chest collapses, forcing the air out of his lungs before he can stop it. "Uh - pretty standard after something like this," he manages. "What'd you say? You going to leave me and go after your gold shield?"

"Please. I couldn't. You wouldn't make it one tour without me."

"I did today," he points out.

"Doesn't count. Extenuating circumstances," she teases. "I'm in the hospital. And it took you all fucking day to get here."

"You think I didn't try to make it sooner? I had so much paperwork, jackass detectives to talk to - all I wanted was to get here and make sure you're okay, since _someone_ went and took a bullet and didn't even have a phone-"

"Okay, alright, it counts," Eddie says. "But yeah, you don't have to worry. I'm not going anywhere. Twelve-David for life."

"For life?" Jamie echoes. "Are you ever going to try for detective?"

She shrugs and he doesn't miss the way she winces a little and adjusts against the head of the bed. "I don't know, maybe someday."

"I thought that's always been your goal."

"I mean, it is. But I like how things are right now. There's no rush."

"Maybe you're the one who can't handle a tour without me," he jokes.

"Yeah, you wish."

"It's the only logical reason you'd pass up a free promotion."

She shakes her head at him but she can't hold in a restrained laugh. "It's definitely not because I'd rather earn it on merit instead of showing up somewhere new and being that girl who got shot. Or because saving it now gives me a card to play later. Nope, it's all because of you."

"I am a pretty good partner," he muses, glancing around the room. "Who are all these losers who brought you flowers? I give you what you want - food. Oh, and all your stuff from your locker. Here."

He picks up her purse and his small black duffel, which he used to carry her street clothes from the precinct. In Eddie's rush to eat he forgot to hand them over.

"You're alright," she says, tossing both bags down to the foot of her bed.

"Just alright?"

"A good partner would go talk the nurse into a few more Jello cups. The hospital food is shit but green Jello-"

"If you start talking about mouthfeel or some bullshit…"

"It's a thing!" Eddie laughs, bracing one hand against her stomach.

"You okay?" Jamie asks.

"I will be," she coughs. "When you get me some Jello."

Jamie shakes his head in feigned dismay. "I'll never be good enough for you, Janko…"

Eddie just snickers as he gets up to find a nurse.

By the time he returns with three Jello cups Eddie has moved on to the fortune cookies she passed up earlier.

"Any good ones?" He asks.

"Ugh, no." She finishes sending a text and then picks up two of the slips to read. "'Failure is not defeat until you stop trying'-"

"Between the sheets," Jamie interrupts.

"Seriously? We're doing that?" Eddie groans. "And 'You are very talented in many ways.' Between the sheets! Ha! Beat you to it."

Jamie cracks up and snatches the paper from her fingers. "Yeah, I think this one was meant to be mine."

"It says _you're talented_ , not _you have a huge ego-_ "

"Who's got a huge ego? Harvard? Yeah, sounds about right," Renzulli says. "Hey, you two."

"Sarge, hi. Lieutenant."

Renzulli and Lieutenant Hyde step all the way into the room. "Officer Janko. Doing alright?" Hyde asks.

"Okay, yeah."

"Good, good to hear."

"Well, ah," Jamie starts. "I guess I should be getting home. But I'll come by in the morning, Eddie, drive you home when they let you out."

"Sure. Yeah," she says distractedly. "Thanks for bringing dinner. Here, take this."

Jamie easily catches the wrapped fortune cookie she tosses across the room. "No problem. Get some rest, okay? See you tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

_Loyalty_

It's as shocking as watching Eddie get shot all over again.

Last night he left this hospital room relaxed and confident knowing that Eddie would be by his side again in a few days. Now he walks quickly, long strides with hunched shoulders to the stairwell so he won't run into the resurrected ghost at the elevators.

 _Barry_?

Only twenty-four hours ago he watched his partner fall to the ground with a bullet in her vest and he's barely had time to regain his composure from the panic that induced. He's too rattled to fully process whatever the fuck just happened but he does know he's about to spin out of control if he doesn't find a way to get a grip.

What saved him yesterday was seeing Eddie with his own eyes, confirming for himself that she was fine and they were safe and _he wasn't losing her_.

Today that won't work.

Today it feels like a lie.

* * *

Jamie processes best when he's moving. When his body is still his brain feels fenced in. That's always been true, dating back to his undergrad days when he'd pore over obscure con law cases on a stationary bike in the college fitness center for two hours at a time.

There are no textbooks or study guides weighing him down anymore. So he runs.

His feet pound the pavement, bringing a rhythmic clarity to his racing thoughts.

He has craved Eddie's presence constantly for nearly five years now. And he's always had it. They sit inches away from one another for the better part of every day. They're rarely apart for longer than twelve hours before the next tour or happy hour or impromptu off day adventure. Anywhere he turns, she's right there with him.

It's the biggest reason he's worked so hard to suppress his unyielding attraction to her. Acting on it will mean losing her physical closeness - at best their days of riding together will be over, at worst they'll find themselves working opposite shifts out of different precincts. Their time together will simmer down to a delicate logistical dance of complicated schedules and concerted effort. Compared to the way things are now, it'll feel like a huge loss.

He's always figured someday she'll get tired of the beat, and facing the end of their partnership for another reason, that's when they'll finally find out what they've been missing out on. It's the light of his own self-compromise at the end of the tunnel. So for the time being he's forced himself to let her nearness be enough.

It's never really occurred to him that it might not be enough for her.

He left the hospital last night relieved at the prospect of returning to normalcy - Eddie teasing him about his driving from the passenger seat while he shoots back some non sequitur retort about her unhealthy aversion to vegetables, each tedious shift made tolerable by her unmatched ability to keep him on his toes. He expected a seamless transition back to their partnership, that safe relationship limbo where they'll wait out that next step and try not to cross any lines before it comes. He thought they were on the same page.

Then Eddie left the hospital with the bearded wonder, and Jamie drove to his own apartment, alone.

He waited so long that her page turned without him. He's missed his chance.

The thought makes his chest ache. He pushes himself faster as if the physical pain of exhausted muscles can distract him from it.

It doesn't work.

* * *

 _What if it was Eddie that had been killed? Is there anything you would regret for the rest of your life because you never told her?_

Jamie played dumb and brushed Erin off when she said it, but truth be told those words have haunted him for two days now.

He's having an awful time between Eddie's absence at work and Barry's unrelenting presence that makes it impossible to see her outside of it. He misses her and the thought of Barry the pizza boy being the one to support her as she heals, physically and psychologically, is enough to make his stomach clench. But the separation has helped him realize one thing - it _is_ possible to do his job without her as his partner. The distance in their personal lives is what he can't handle.

It's the kind of realization that he'd probably keep to himself without Erin's loaded question practically chasing the words out of his mouth. But it's been five years and the longest week of his life. If he doesn't tell her now they'll fall back into their old routine - whatever their old routine will look like with Barry's stupid too-big smile haunting him around every corner - and he doesn't want to wait for another serious wakeup call like a shooting to make this happen.

He wants to tell her to take a promotion, ditch the hipster ghost, and come figure out the next steps. With him. Together. He just needs to figure out how to say it.

His chance arises when he returns to his desk to find her standing across at hers.

His stomach swoops when he sees her, a reaction he's gotten good at controlling when he expects to see her. He can't spell it all out here, in the middle of the Twelfth, but he can invite her to grab that drink she's been putting off all week and they can talk.

"You're back!" he says.

"Hey - no, just paperwork. And I had to get fitted for a new vest." Her voice nearly breaks when she says it, and so does Jamie's heart.

"How you doing?" he asks softly.

"Sore. But good." She meets his gaze and smiles. "Miss me?"

"As a matter of fact I did, yeah," he admits. "Having you gone has actually got me thinking about a lot of things."

She hums an intrigued note. "What were you thinking about?"

He's about to offer up that drink and those thoughts when he hears the human broomstick's sickeningly cheerful greeting behind him.

 _Fucking Barry_.

When Eddie suggests dinner Jamie scrambles to think of an excuse. As much as he misses Eddie he can't take the thought of spending time with her while her boyfriend watches from across the table. So he feels a sting of painful relief when Barry produces an envelope of Springsteen on Broadway tickets from behind his back.

Eddie's face lights up and that's where Jamie focuses to ignore whatever smug-ass bullshit comes out of Barry's mouth. But he still has to swallow down a pang of grief that tonight, at least, Barry is the one making her this happy.

Barry excuses himself to get him a cab - for a ghost he's quite concerned with transportation, Jamie thinks bitterly - and Eddie gathers her things.

"What were you gonna say?"

Jamie looks up at her but he can't ask her to skip Springsteen for him a second time. "Ah - it was nothing," he says. "You should get going."

"No, tell me," Eddie insists. "I really want to know."

"It's just that…"

He almost does. Almost.

"I hope you come back soon. And enjoy that show, because I'm jealous. Alright?"

Grabbing his things, he makes his escape before he lets his eyes settle on her face. He knows he'll see understanding there - she knows he's not jealous about the damn concert - and it might make him do something stupid. He's not going to ruin her night.

Would it be ruining her night?

He pauses in the doorway, considering, just for a moment, going back. Grabbing Eddie's hand, taking her out the back door, away from Beardo and his Springsteen tickets and everything they think they know.

He doesn't. He doesn't need to. This isn't a one-time impulse and he's not going to lose his nerve.

He knows what he wants now. He's never been more sure of anything. That switch has flipped and he's determined. It might not happen right away - Eddie _is_ seeing someone, after all, so it wouldn't be fair to expect that - but however long it takes, he's paying attention. He's waiting for his opportunity. He's ready. And he's not going anywhere.


End file.
